Tempest stood at a streetcorner, watching the sliver crescent slowly lowering its way down the skyline. He was about out of time before he had to start, and he could hardly compose himself. On the way to the courtyard he had wracked his brain, doing his best to put all of his jumbled thoughts in order, but he just couldn’t get any of his thoughts straight. He couldn’t think about anything but the very real possibility that Celeste had lied to him.
He thought of myriad possibility after possibility, any other potentiality that might excuse her- maybe someone else had snuck into her home after Asha left and took the tablet? It was possible, but who else would know what she had it? Maybe someone had threatened her, forced her to sabotage him? But if so, why hadn’t she just told him? He could protect her, whatever it was, like he was trying to do with her entire home. Why would she intervene in that? Why would she want to humiliate him, and destroy any chance of his saving her home? It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense to him, and so he reasoned that it just couldn’t be possible.
He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but he knew there had to be some other possibility, some other explanation for the missing tablet. Celeste loved him. He loved her. She would never betray him. He knew that, with every fiber of his being. If he knew anything, it was that.
He still had one last asset that could help him; someone in the village was sure to recognize the cultists’ amulet. The pendants had been meticulously carved in a specific image, an image of a creature wholly unique from anything else he had ever encountered. If he could show the village that pendant, maybe someone would recognize it and know he was telling the truth.
Reaching into the cowl’s pocket, Tempest withdrew the silver necklace and placed its pendant in the center of his claws. He turned it over to assess and his heart sank. His leg felt weak and threatened to give out beneath him. He leaned against the wall of a building and tried to regain his composure.
The pendant was smashed and battered, horribly misshapen from its original form. The likeness of the creature depicted in it- who Tempest had to presume was Singulus- had been so maimed that it would be impossible for anyone to recognize. There were marks all across the little sculpture where it had been struck by some blunt object- probably a hammer, judging by the heft of the dents- many, many times. Someone had wanted it disfigured, that much was certain- but Tempest couldn’t fathom how they could have held anything but abject hatred for it with how fierce the blows had been. How could a worshipper of this creature bring themself to maim his likeness?
This was the only other piece of evidence that he had to offer, and it was completely useless. He had to fight to resist the urge to smash the filthy idol on the ground in a cathartic act of blind fury; it wouldn’t do anything to help. Now all he had to offer were his words, and he wasn’t known for being especially adept with those.
I wish Zeph was here. He would know what to say, Tempest thought, another pang of guilt washing over him. He hadn’t thought about his friends since he had left the monastery the previous afternoon. He knew the pressures of the trial and the Elders’ judgement had to weigh heavily on them both, not to mention the physical strain Zephyr was always under. He hoped they were doing okay; he wondered how long it would be before he would be able to go see them again- how long he would have to stay at the village trying to help prepare. What would they think of me then? Where would they think I went? They’d probably think I ran away, like the coward I am.
One of his claws rapped the stone pavement of the village roads, the way it often did when he was anxious. A part of him was tugging at his heart, trying to compel him just to turn and run. There was nothing he could do anymore, no evidence he could provide, nothing he could say to make anyone believe him. He could just run away now and save himself the embarrassment. The village could tend to itself, they didn’t need him to save them. They didn’t want him to try.
No. Tempest took a deep breath and looked to the courtyard, blazing torchlight scattering the surrounding darkness and casting myriad shadows on the surrounding buildings. He had an audience, and he had a promise to keep. I said I would find a way. I won’t turn my back on them now.
His heart pumping with an erratic, nervous rhythm, Tempest approached the crowd. They were arranged in a wide semicircle, fanning out to face a stage where a lone figure was waiting. There were dozens of them- mostly pterosaurs, several small dinosaurs, and a few stray Lystrosaurus, Placerias, and other peculiar herbivores. Easily the most surprising of the bunch were a family of river-dwelling Phytosauruses, long-tailed and long-snouted quadrupedal crocodilians. Phytosaurs were carnivorous, but if they had been let into the village than the family must have been known to the guardsman at the gate and were known not to be a threat; maybe they were pescatarians? Regardless, they were given a wide berth by the other villagers and reserved a choice view of the stage because of it.
At the stage was Chief Styracus, a peculiar creature. He was the lone Shringasaurus of the village, a variety of tall herbivores with heavyset bodies, long, stiff, necks and a pair of short upward-facing horns over their eyes. His scales were a mottled dark brown and his eyes were a deep-set amber color to match. His sideways facing eyes bore that distinctive placidity common to most large herbivores, but they held a subtle hint of guarded intellect that Tempest had likewise detected in Elder Sapiens. Like Sapiens, Styracus was not someone to underestimate by his brutish looks.
Tempest sifted his way through the crowd, disgruntled villagers parting to let him pass. His cowl helped a little to obscure his foreign status, but he could detect a few sneers on the faces of people who recognized him. To them, he was just another of those stuck-up, high-strung monks from the monastery. Once Chief Styracus saw Tempest approaching, he bowed his long neck and stepped back, allowing him to clamber his way onto the stage.
“I trusted Celeste when she said this was important, Tempest,” the village chieftain said, craning his neck to whisper to the young pterosaur. “Most folks aren’t too happy about being called out here so late, so my advice: keep your remarks short and don’t try to win them over with any of that flowery monastery talk; they’re simple folks.”
With that, Styracus moved off to the side and gave Tempest control of the stage. The Caelestiventus was dreadfully nervous now that he was facing the sea of consternation and scowls looking back at him. He tried to speak, but his voice was dry and his words caught up in his throat. He had never spoken in front of this many people before, and never about anything this important.
Searching for an anchor he could latch onto, Tempest scanned the crowd, yearning to catch sight of one particular face. After several awkward seconds of a flitting gaze, he finally caught sight of her, standing at front row’s center, only a few feet away from his stage. By flickering torchlight, Celeste looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. The light glinted off her jewelry with a magnificent dazzle and liner around her eyes accentuated the gentle light of her loving gaze. She offered a consoling smile and Tempest returned it, but something about the way she looked made him feel uncomfortable. It was as though she was trying to make up to him for something; his mind flashed back to what Asha had said and the suspicions she had sowed in his head. He broke off his gaze.
No, he thought, looking out into the crowd. She’s just trying to support me, to let me know she’s here for me. That’s all it is. He looked at her again and nodded. He was ready.
“My name,” he began with a sputter, his voice small and unwilling to project his words. He looked at Celeste and she nodded back at him, then looked up at the disdainful crowd. He took another deep breath and then tried again. “My name is Tempest. Some of you know me, and most of you know my friend Celeste. If you do, you know I’m not from here. I live in a monastery high in the mountains, with a few other brothers of my Order.”
The crowd was silent, most faces looking bored and disinterested. None of this was new information to them; certainly not anything worth standing around in the dark for.
“Yesterday afternoon I was attacked, and I fear the people responsible may pose a threat to your whole village.” That got most of their attention. Tempest’s words came out stronger this time, as he steeled his resolve to issue his proclamation; his warning was something they needed to hear. “I had found a soldier from Civitas Lapis dead in one of the watchtowers. On her body was a tablet written to her superiors, detailing a threat amassing against your home. She called them a cult.”
The crowd exploded into a tangle of hushed whispers, forming a body of sounds that could be described as anything other than ‘hushed.’ Chief Styracus pounded a foot on the stage for order, and the crowd quieted.
“The people responsible for killing her tried to kill me too, but I escaped, and I flew here to warn you.”
The crowd looked up at him with expectant silence. They were clearly waiting for something more, but that was all he had.
“Tell us about this cult! What do they want with us?” Someone, a Lystrosaurus, blurted out from the back of the crowd. A second chimed in to assent, and then a third, and then several more.
“I don’t know,” Tempest said, tentatively. If pterosaurs could sweat, he would be. “The people who attacked me swore to someone named Singulus. I think they might be worshippers of him.”
That name sent an avalanche of whispers through the mass of the crowd. It must have meant something to quite a few of them.
“What about this ‘tablet’? You said it had more information about them, right?”
“Well, I did, but, erm-” Tempest stammered, slightly embarrassed. It would have been great to have just then. “I don’t know where it is.”
“You lost it?” an aggravated Phytosaurus growled.
“Not lost, I-”
“If he ever had it to begin with!” another Lystrosaurus bellowed from the back. Several murmurs voiced their agreement with the sentiment. Do they think I’m making this up?
“Lad,” Chief Styracus approached and bent his neck down to whisper to Tempest. “have you got anything to give them to chew on? They’re gonna need a little more than a story about how some marauders waylaid you in the woods. That hasn’t been too uncommon around here lately.” Tempest returned the chieftain a dejected shake of his head. “Then there’s not much I can do to help ya, lad.”
Tempest looked down at Celeste and she returned his gaze with a sympathetic look of her own. I promised I would find a way. I have to come up with something! Styracus backed away and looked down on him expectantly. He had to say something.
“I… I know I don’t have much,” he called, over the raucous crowd. Styracus stomped a heavy foot and they silenced again. Their glares didn’t subside. “I know- I know it’s not much. I wish I had more to give you, but I don’t. But I know what I saw. I know what those monsters did to that soldier. I know that soldiers from the High City are leaving and aren’t going to be protecting your city anymore, and I know that these evil people know that too. They are coming for you- that much I am certain of. And if we don’t prepare for it, if we don’t warn the surrounding villages and call for help- we won’t survive what I know is coming.”
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The crowd remained quiet. They offered furtive glances to one another but didn’t speak. They were unconvinced, and Tempest couldn’t blame them. He didn’t have very much to offer. In dejected humiliation, the pterosaur stepped away from the edge of the stage. He had said all that he had to say. Chief Styracus gave him a sympathetic nod and stepped up to address the crowd when another voice called over them.
“He’s right, to my utmost chagrin.” Tempest recognized those stuck-up intonations anywhere. Standing behind the crowd, her seafoam green shawl brilliantly illuminated by the light of dozens of torches, was Asha. “Late yesterday evening, a trader and his guard escorts hobbled their way into my hospital. They suffered grievous brute injuries in a myriad of different forms, inflicted by several weapons. The individual responsible overpowered four individuals, two of whom were elite guardsmen from Emmaus, and inflicted- save my timely intervention- mortal wounds onto each. I can’t attest to any cultish fear-mongering, but- judging by the blood staining the very nice furniture of my home- I most certainly can attest that there is a very tangible danger being posed to our people. We would be wise to treat it as such.”
A few more hushed murmurs from the crowd. They were certainly much more liable to be taking her word- a local they knew and respected- for threats than Tempest’s. Tempest mouthed Asha a silent ‘thank you’ and she rolled her eyes, before disappearing back into the crowd. Tempest looked to Styracus and stepped back, letting the chieftain take back the stage.
Chief Styracus glanced over at the crowd, offered a final searching appraisal of Tempest, and then turned back to speak. He had made up his mind.
“Taking both Tempest and now Asha’s testimony under consideration, I’ve come to a determination regarding the best way for us to proceed in engaging this threat. There can be little dispute that there are certain threats to our people lurking outside of our walls. These threats- be them bandits, or raiders, or perhaps even the aberrant cultist- have always existed.”
Aberrant? This was an organized movement, not a couple of lunatics in the woods!
“Now, following the withdrawal of Civitas Lapis’s soldiers, this threat has sufficiently risen in magnitude so as to present a serious danger to our people. As such, I am going to be increasing the radius of guard patrols further away from our walls and will have a dedicated force devoted to express extermination of whomever has been targeting our people. Thank you, Tempest,” he nodded his little head at the pterosaur, who was openly scowling. “For bringing this information to our attention. For your bravery and prescience of mind, we are in your debt.” He turned back to the crowd. “Do not forget what our friend from the monastery has done for us. That will be all, you are dismissed,”
Chief Styracus pounded a foot and the crowd wasted no time scurrying back to their homes. Evidently, they were satisfied with his pronouncement and they were anxious to get back to their rest. Tempest was fuming. He glared at the Shringasaurus, who offered a conciliatory flash of his teeth.
“I’m sorry lad, that’s the best I can do. I can’t go off shutting down our village and chasing after phantom cults. It’s already a scary world out there, we don’t need to be sending anyone into a panic.”
“A panic? Styracus, I know what’s out there, and I know it’s coming for us. We have to do something to prepare for it. We need to send word to the High City, we need more guards, we need-”
“What we need right now is to keep our heads, lad. Thank you for the help you’ve given us, truly. You went through a lot to send up a warning signal, and I won’t forget that. But my decision is final; whatever threat is out there, we’ll fight it off with every resource we have here. This village has been here for generations, it won’t be going down without a fight. We’ll handle it lad, I swear.” With that, he tipped his neck in salute and turned to walk away.
Tempest wanted to follow him, to lash out at him, to give him a piece of his mind! These people were dangerous! They weren’t just some common thugs! But what proof could he offer beyond what he already had? He needed something concrete, and he had nothing. He looked back at the courtyard, now almost completely deserted. A few people looked back at him as they left, but their gazes were anything but sympathetic.
I failed. Tempest slunk down on the steps of the stage in defeat, feeling ashamed and humiliated. What a failure I am.
“I told you my believing you wouldn’t help,” Asha said, in her dry, clinical way. She approached the pterosaur seated on the stair and placed a gentle claw on his shoulder. She still hovered over him and craned her neck down in her typical condescending way, but it was a (somewhat) sweet gesture regardless. “It was awfully brave of you to stand up here like you did, in front of those gawking plebeians. I admire that. You stuck your neck out for them; in my experience, that usually only ends one way.” Asha lifted his downtrodden beak to look at her, a wry smile playing on the edges of her snout. She pantomimed running a claw across her neck, and then shrugged. “Still, take it from me: there are many worse ways to die. See you around, monk.”
Asha turned, whipped her tail past his beak, and then left back in the direction she had come, back toward her hospital. The crowd had dissipated now, the only ones left being the departing Asha and a pterosaur wearing a guard uniform. Where had Celeste gone? Surely if anyone would have stuck around to comfort him, it would have been her?
He didn’t have much time to think about it. The pterosaur was approaching. He was a Raeticodactylus, a pterosaur a little larger Zephyr, and quite a few years older than both of them. A brilliant red crest fanned across the length of his skull, a curved arc from the tip of his beak to the base of his head. He was garbed in the traditional guard uniform: a metal breastplate overlaid with a maroon shawl. Most other guards also wore their helmet while on duty, but his spectacular crest must have prevented his wearing one. The emblem on the brooch clasping his cowl together was different than the one on Tempest’s: where Tempest’s was the traditional crest of the village, his was that of Civitas Lapis- a small theropod perched upon a pillar of stone. There was a sword sheathed at his hip, its hilt a three-pronged undulating wave for his claws to comfortably grip.
“It’s Tempest, right?” the Raeticodactylus spoke, his voice clear and confident. “My name is Odysseus, Guard Captain of this regiment of soldiers.” Odysseus struck Tempest as quite a lofty name for someone so small. “Since you’re not from here and I don’t recognize you, I’m going to assume that shawl is something of a misnomer?”
“Sorry. My body’s pretty beat up; this was the only thing I had available to cover up the scars.”
“Fair enough. Though it doesn’t cover all of them.” Odysseus rapped at his beak where the largest scar was on Tempest, and then pointed at the large tear in Tempest’s wing with his tail.
“No, but it’s better than having them all on display.”
“Perhaps. It’s still stolen valor,” Odysseus looked deathly serious, but there was a dry intonation in his voice revealing the comment as a joke. “But if your story’s true- if you did fight your way past the same people who killed a High City soldier to get word to us- then maybe you’ve earned the right to wear it. I had some questions, if you don’t mind.”
He did, sort of. He was weary and he didn’t feel much like being questioned again tonight. Nonetheless, he replied, “Anything you need to know.”
“I’m curious about this soldier you found. You said she was from Civitas Lapis, at one of the watchtowers along the road. What else can you tell me about her?”
That was a curious question.
“Well, she was a Lystrosaurus, for starters,” Tempest began, and Odysseus let loose a cold sigh. Did he know this person? “She was muscular, but I couldn’t tell you much more beyond that. She was wearing the regular High City uniform: full metal armor, silver with purple. I can’t really tell you much else about her, nothing you’d want to hear if you knew her, anyways.” His mind flashed back to the memories: her body lying in a pool of its own blood, sword marks on her neck, armor crushed by the weight of Conru’s hammer.
“Hmph. You mentioned she was writing a tablet to her superior. Was there a name?”
“Most of the details were hard to make out, but it was addressed to a ‘Lieutenant Abr-’ something. Whoever the soldier was, she said she wasn’t going to leave. She wanted to stay back and help the village, so it must have meant a lot to her.”
“Lieutenant Abrax,” Odysseus said. He was only half-listening, staring off into a middle distance just past Tempest. “He was a good man. One of our patrols found him dead on the road back to the High City, a few days ago. We brought it up to the Chief, but he didn’t care; he was convinced it was just another one-off by some enterprising bandits. I trust you've heard the news about Morlus, the village on the western slope of the mountain?" Tempest's confused expression told the captain that he had not. "It's been devastated, burned and pillaged, every home burned to ash and every living person and possession taken as spoils. With the soldiers from Civitas Lapis withdrawn, the Chief made the case that this nasty business was the work of a bandit gang as well. I bought that too- blind fool I am, but it sure is starting to sound like that ain’t the case." Odysseus paused for a long moment, leaving Tempest to grapple with the revelation of the nearby village's fate.
"Abrax had six soldiers under his command," the captain suddenly continued. "Only one female and only one a Lystrosaurus. Her name was Cidith.” He left the name to linger in the air for a minute. “I knew her well.”
“I’m sorry,” Tempest offered. He felt bad for feeling so bad for himself. There were plenty of other people hurting who weren’t sitting around sulking about it. He had tried, at least.
“Don’t be. There's no use in feeling guilty about the things you didn’t do. All thats left for us is to be responsible for those things we can.” Odysseus leaned in close, bringing in his beak parallel to Tempest’s to whisper as quietly as possible. “I believe you, Tempest, about that cult. And I’m gonna do something about it, no matter what Styracus says. You came up against ‘em and survived. That means you’ve done something very few of my boys can say they have. If you’re lookin’ for a way to help, you can keep that uniform- and we’ll stop the bad guys together.”
Odysseus withdrew from Tempest and outstretched his wing. The larger pterosaur assessed it for a few moments, and then outstretched his to shake it.
“I’ll help you stop them,” Tempest said. “However I can.”
“That’s all I can ask,” Odysseus released his grip and clapped his wing on Tempest’s shoulder. “It’s getting late now, you should go get some rest; you look like you could use it. I’ll be around the guardhouse most of the day tomorrow. Come find me, and we can get to work.”
Tempest nodded and Odysseus leapt into the sky, leaving him alone. Alone with that one lingering question: where was Celeste? Maybe she had gone home already? Aside from the drone of chirping cicadas, the village had fallen deathly quiet again. Tempest would be making the return journey home alone.
He wandered the streets back to Celeste’s home at a slow, meandering pace, being in no particular rush. His leg still ached whenever he moved, so he had determined to take things as slowly as possible. The streets were now properly illuminated, villagers’ torches returned to their rightful sconces. It was still eerily quiet, even the typical wandering traders having returned to their own homes for disgruntled rest. I really did drag them out here for nothing, didn’t I? Maybe not quite for nothing. He had met Odysseus, and he had promised to help him stop this cult. Good allies were a precious commodity to come by. Maybe that was worth all the humiliation.
He was getting close to Celeste’s home now, a half-extinguished torch burning beside the entryway. The door was left open. Tempest heard a cry coming from inside the home, and he rushed to the entrance as quickly as his limping leg could take him! As he approached, he realized that what he was hearing wasn’t a cry, but crying, and he knew the voice. Celeste was inside, sobbing.
Drops of some gray earthen substance had made a trail entering into the home, mixed with what Tempest could make out to be drops of her eyeliner. Without any further hesitation, he entered the home.
Celeste was alone in the main room, splayed out on the floor, her eyeliner smeared all over her face as more of her tears dripped down. In front of her were the shattered remains of a tablet- a clay tablet. Tempest didn’t have to guess which one it was. Before her was a massive stone tablet, almost as large as she was. She held a hammer tight in her claws and was pounding away at the stone tablet, but to no avail; its face was cracked and dented, but nothing she did made any headway in altering the words. With every strike, lines in the tablet would warp and reshape, moving around any damage. She sobbed harder with every strike.
“Celeste?” Tempest called to her, and she looked up, her maddened fury suddenly quenched at the sight of him.
“Oh, Tempest!” she wailed, flinging down her useless tool and rushing to meet him. She flung her wings around him and held him fast in the tightest embrace he had ever felt. “I’m so, so very sorry, Tempest. I had to! I didn’t want to, but I had to, because I didn’t have a choice, and if I didn’t go through with it then our eggs would die!”
Eggs? Our eggs? Tempest couldn’t recall that having happened. He wasn’t sure what to say, or what to do, save keep her wrapped in the crushing embrace. She attempted to twine her tail with his, and he obliged her, doing whatever he could to try to calm her down. Her breath was excited and uneven, very near to hyperventilating. She didn’t say another word for a long time, and then she couldn’t hold anything back anymore. She blurted out the truth that he was dreading to accept. Three little words:
“I serve Singulus.”